I’m writing this letter, with ears still full of whistling that I received the day of the tie with Colombia, and I think I have no choice but to address this letter to the population of Argentina.
I’m supposed to be the best in the world. Am I? I don’t know. What does the best in the world do? I don’t know that either.
I just know that I’m a football player who has done well. I also know, and remember, my history.
I started playing football when I was very young. In the middle of it, the unthinkable happened: My physique did not develop in a way that would allow me to play professionally. The only solution was a very expensive treatment, away from my family. I looked for support in Argentina, in my country, but I couldn’t find it. With my parents, I knocked on doors in vain. Nobody wanted to take a chance on a small child. Even River closed on me, thinking I was not worth it.
At that time, a foreign club was interested in me. They spent time, money and doctors on me. They allowed my family to stay close to me. Without rushing it, they shaped me, and I finally started playing. Organized and without skipping a single stage of the work on the way. That club was Barcelona.
For Argentina, this meant a risk of losing a possible player, so a lazy and rushed special party in the Argentine youth system was arranged, to keep me from playing for Spain. This was good for Argentina.
Now, every time I play for my country, using the Copa America for example, where everything was donated to charity, all responsibility falls on me. Do you forget that football is a team game? Do you think that things happen by magic? Do you not understand that football, like all sports, is a question of winning a few seconds instead? Today, nobody can improvise.
Argentina want to play as a club team, but they don’t want the job and the organization of a club. They want things to happen the same way, but while doing different things.
Without work and organization, there is no way to achieve success. Not in football, or in any aspect of life. The Argentines seem to not mind anything, always wanting their idols. They want to have a new Maradona. And now they’re following me?
It hurts me to say this: I love Argentina, But I’m tired of Argentines. I’m tired of giving explanations because there are people who thinks I’m the best in the world. I’m tired of being compared to Maradona or anyone else. I’m tired of them not understanding that I am someone who gets up every day, trying to make things right.
If the Argentines realized that, rather than requesting miracles from me, work and organization should be in the minds of the leaders, starting with football, things could improve. If not, it’s not important. But please, leave me and my family alone.